College Auditorium – Graduation Day
The auditorium pulsed with celebration. Flashing cameras, the echo of names being called, the rustle of gowns. Cheers erupted every few minutes as students walked across the stage, one by one, receiving their certificates with the same wide smile plastered on their faces.
Rihanna Thompson smiled too. But it never reached her eyes.
When her name was announced, the applause came mostly from the back row—Zoya, of course, clapping loud enough for ten people.
Rihanna walked the stage slowly, collected the certificate, posed for the camera, and walked off.
No tears.No real pride.Just a quiet ache in her chest that said, This doesn't change anything.
Campus Grounds – Later
"I'm so proud of you," Zoya said, hugging her tight. "We made it. You made it."
Rihanna nodded, letting herself rest her head against her friend's shoulder for a second longer than usual.
"I should feel something more," she said quietly.
Zoya pulled back. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… this is it, right? The end of everything we worked for. And yet, it just feels... hollow."
Zoya tried to laugh it off. "That's post-grad blues. Totally normal."
Rihanna looked off into the distance. "Maybe. Or maybe I expected something bigger. Something that would finally make me feel alive."
Zoya frowned. "You're scaring me again."
Rihanna gave her a soft smile. "Don't be scared. I'm just tired of small things. I want more."
Rihanna's Room – A Week Later
The room was half-empty now. Books packed. Closet nearly bare. Zoya had left for her hometown two days ago, and Rihanna stayed back to finish interviews.
She sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the one email that stood out in her inbox.
Subject: Interview Invitation – Aurelio International (Italy HQ)We are pleased to invite you to the next round of evaluation for our international marketing analyst position...
She reread it three times.
Italy.
The birthplace of most mafia dramas she'd drowned herself in. The setting for tragic romances and cursed loyalties. The world that once felt distant… was now a job offer away.
It was supposed to be just corporate work. A clean-cut position at a luxury brand's global office. Safe. Structured.
But something in her stirred.
She wasn't thinking about spreadsheets.
She was thinking about alleyways and velvet suits. Smoke curling in marble halls. Eyes like weapons.
It was irrational. She knew that.But maybe—just maybe—this was fate knocking.
Interview – Video Call
The woman on the other side of the screen was polished, sharp-eyed, Italian-accented. She spoke quickly, professionally, asking Rihanna about campaign analysis, consumer trends, language proficiency.
Rihanna answered smoothly. Her voice calm, her words clean. She knew her resume inside out. She had trained for this.
But behind her calm tone, something pulsed.
A longing.A wildness under her skin.
"Why Italy?" the woman finally asked.
Rihanna hesitated only for a second.
"I want to work in a place that breathes passion. That takes risks. I don't want a flatline life. I want intensity—even in the boardroom."
The woman raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Interesting answer."
Rihanna smiled. "I mean every word."
Evening – Hostel Balcony
That night, she stood on the narrow balcony with her laptop open beside her. The stars were scattered across the velvet sky, and Rihanna's phone buzzed.
Email Notification:
Subject: Congratulations. Offer Letter – Aurelio International.
Her lips parted slightly. No smile. Just stillness.
This was it.
The beginning of something she couldn't name yet.
A new country. A new job. A new identity, maybe.
The safety of her known world was ending. And something darker, deeper, and far more intoxicating was waiting just around the corner.
She closed her eyes, whispered to the wind:
"I hope I meet someone dangerous."
And the night… stayed silent.
But fate had already started turning.